Another Angel of Love

by Henry K. Ripplinger

  Jenny could hardly wait to see Tammy. She’d given birth to a seven-and-a-half-pound baby girl earlier that morning. The doctor had induced the delivery as the baby was already two weeks overdue, according to his best estimate. Jenny would have loved to have been there, but Tammy’s mother wouldn’t hear of it. She still blamed Jenny for changing Tammy’s mind about having an abortion, and Jenny could feel the vibes loud and clear when in the presence of Tammy’s mother.

  As Jenny got dressed, she recalled the birth of her own little girl and that she hadn’t been allowed to hold her, not even for a second. The memory of tiny Camilla being whisked away by an attending nurse to waiting adoptive parents in another room was still so strong and real. She couldn’t wait to get to the hospital to see and hold Tammy’s baby, to imagine what it might have been like to hold her own baby. If only it was little Camilla she was going to see and not Tammy’s baby girl.

  They would be almost three years apart, thought Jenny. Well, not quite. Today is April 24, 1960, and Camilla was born May 24, 1957… Jenny quickly calculated…so they are three years less a month apart. My gosh how the time goes! Camilla is already three years old! Well, anyway, reflected Jenny, I’ll now have two little girls to celebrate on the twenty-fourth of every month. They would’ve made such good friends. Three years’ difference isn’t very much; Camilla could have been a big sister to…I wonder what Tammy’s going to name her little girl?

  Jenny slipped on yellow low-heeled shoes and went over to the floor-length mirror attached to her closet door. As she gazed at herself she wondered what Camilla might look like. Would she have her blond hair and blue eyes and oval face or would she look like…?

  The thought unsettled her; she didn’t want to think about the guy who had raped her and she didn’t want that kind of stigma attached to her little girl. She was just a beautiful, innocent child, completely devoid of the intentions of her father. When she was pregnant with Camilla, Jenny had wiped the father out of her mind and replaced him with Henry. It helped her accept the pregnancy initially, but even the awful circumstances surrounding Camilla’s conception couldn’t keep Jenny from loving the baby growing inside her for very long.

  Still, every now and then she allowed herself to think of that boy. Jenny wondered if he knew he had fathered a baby. Does he ever think about that night and what happened? How funny life could be with its twists and turns. Perhaps if she met him, he might turn out to be a really nice guy who just wasn’t himself under the influence of alcohol. I wonder if our paths will ever cross again? A strange feeling swept through Jenny at the thought.

  I can hardly wait to see that baby. Jenny ran down the stairs just as Edith was coming in the front door.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Oh my, Jenny, you look so lovely in that yellow spring dress.”

  “Aw, thanks, Mom! How did the luncheon meeting with Isabel go?”

  “Fine. So where are you off to?”

  “Tammy had her baby this morning. She just called. It’s a girl and over seven pounds, almost two pounds bigger that Camilla was. I’m just dying to hold her!”

  Edith stared at Jenny, remembering only too well being in the delivery room when her daughter had given birth herself. She could still see the baby dangling from the doctor’s hands, but even more remembered the look of longing in Jenny’s eyes. Jenny had wanted to hold and kiss her baby so much. At the time Edith wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but she, too, would have liked to have held her daughter’s baby, her grandchild.

  Ted had wanted to allow Jenny to keep the baby. He felt that it was their responsibility and actually had said he’d welcome the opportunity to raise another child, claiming it would give him the chance to be more of a father, to mark a new beginning, to be at home more and involved with the child’s upbringing. That it would bring them all closer together.

  But that was all talk. Ted just trying to deal with his guilt for not being home more with Jenny. No, it had been best, Jenny being the age she’d been, to give the baby up for adoption to a young couple—parents who could provide a loving, secure home. But, she thought, it would be nice to hear the pitter-patter of little feet running through this sometimes altogether too huge house. She looked at her lovely daughter and allowed herself to momentarily feel the loss of that decision. But Edith quickly pushed the thought out of her mind.

  “Better take an umbrella, Jen, it’s starting to rain. Here, take this yellow one; it matches your outfit. And give my love to Tammy. Tell her I can hardly wait to see her baby too.”

  Jenny parked the car in the Ottawa General Hospital parking lot. She got out and opened the umbrella. It was a warm, gentle spring rain. She would have loved to have taken her shoes off and run over the lawn, the thought of which reminded her fondly of the day she and Henry had run home barefoot in the rain. The freshness in the air energized her now as it had that day, along with the many dazzling reflections of cars and people walking to and from the hospital. Unbeknownst to Jenny, however, was how the many people passing her stared a moment or two longer than normal. It was as if a ray of sun walked down the street, cutting through the rain. Jenny’s yellow dress and umbrella reflected in the water on the street like gold. And once the passersby saw her features it was as if they were hypnotized by her beauty, unable to turn away.

  A window cleaner caught the reflection of her approach in the entryway window he was cleaning. He quickly turned and held the door for Jenny, wanting to see for himself the bright yellow light that so distracted him.

  “Thank you,” said Jenny with a warm smile.

  “You’re welcome, miss.” He smelled lilacs as she passed him.

  A nurse tied a white smock at Jenny’s back and gave her a mask to wear before seeing the newborn. When Jenny entered Tammy’s room, her friend, so obviously a mother now, was nursing her baby. The sight sent spears of envy into Jenny’s heart. She rushed to her friend’s bedside and kissed Tammy’s forehead through the white mask. She reached down and touched the baby’s head.

  “Oh, Tammy, she’s so beautiful! Look at all her dark brown hair!” Tears slid down Jenny’s cheek at the sight of the infant suckling at her mother’s breast. So often Jenny had dreamed of holding Camilla to her breast, snuggling and loving her. Each day of pain as her milk dried up was a terribly vivid reminder of what nature had intended her to do. Jenny hoped and prayed that her daughter would forgive her for not being there for her; raised on formula and not the close, loving, nurturing touch of her real mother.

  “Oh, Tammy, she’s so beautiful,” she said again. “Have you decided on a name yet?”

  “I like Alicia and Ashley, but I was hoping Robbie would come and see the baby so I could get his input, but he hasn’t been here yet.”

  Jenny’s heart went out to her friend. She understood being alone; how often she had wished that Henry were at her side when Camilla was born.

  “Oh, he’ll probably come, Tammy. Give him time.”

  The baby turned her head to look up at Jenny, releasing the nipple with a small pop. Tammy pulled her gown closed and held the baby over her shoulder to burp her.

  Jenny marvelled at how quickly Tammy had known what to do.

  “Would you like to hold her?”

  “Oh, Tammy, could I please?”

  Jenny bent down and gently took the baby from Tammy’s arms and immediately brought the tiny creature close, nestled at her breast. This is what it would have been like to hold Camilla. Her sweet little girl in her arms, nursing. This was the memory her heart should hold, not her helpless baby dangling from a distant doctor’s hand.

  Jenny brought the newborn to her face, breathing in that unmistakable baby scent. She smiled at the infant and kissed her forehead through the mask. She wanted to remove the cloth and feel the baby’s soft, soft skin on her lips. Longing flooded her mind. This is what it’s supposed to be like, my baby close in my arms, she thought again. Sh
e wanted to hold the baby, skin to skin, to feel the closeness she had lost. Tears slid down Jenny’s cheeks as one thought after another crossed her mind.

  Oh to think that this beautiful infant was almost aborted. The thought sent a stab into Jenny’s gut.

  Jenny felt Tammy’s eyes on her. She could probably guess what was going through her mind. She should give the baby girl back to her mother but Jenny wanted to hold her forever!

  “Tammy, she is so darling, I could just hold her for always.”

  Just then Tammy’s mother came into the room.

  “Hi, Mrs. Anderson.”

  “Hello, Jenny,” she replied coldly. She turned to her daughter. “I filled out some papers with the social worker. She’ll be in to see you later this afternoon. I have to go now but I’ll be back with your dad tonight. He wants to see what his granddaughter looks like.”

  “Give my love to Daddy and tell him I can’t wait for him to see her.”

  Mrs. Anderson turned back to Jenny. “Please don’t stay too long, hmm? Tammy needs her rest.”

  “Oh, for sure, Mrs. Anderson. I’ll be leaving shortly as well.”

  As Tammy’s mother left, an attending nurse walked in. She looked surprised not to see the baby in Tammy’s arms. She quickly turned to see the infant tucked securely in Jenny’s arms. “You had me worried for a moment there,” she chuckled, “thought maybe we’d misplaced our new little addition to the world.”

  Jenny reluctantly handed the baby to the nurse.

  “I’ll be back with her in two hours for another feeding. Try to get some rest in the meantime.”

  When the nurse left, Jenny pushed a chair up to Tammy’s bedside. No sooner had she sat down than tears began to flow from Tammy’s eyes.

  “I love Robbie so much and yet he doesn’t seem to care about me or our baby. He thinks only of his future. I know I shouldn’t have, but I called him two times last week. He seemed so cold and distant, Jen; I don’t think he loves me anymore. Maybe he never did. I told the social worker I wanted three days to think it over, whether or not I want to give the baby up for adoption, I mean. What should I do, Jenny?”

  Jenny knew exactly what she herself would do. She would keep the baby. She knew only too well the loss Tammy would suffer. Granted, given her age and the circumstances of her own pregnancy, Jenny realized that it was likely best to have given up Camilla, as painful as it had been, but Tammy was older and almost finished high school. It would be difficult at times, but Jenny believed the joy of raising her daughter would far outweigh the loss.

  Jenny was about to speak when Tammy went on, “If I give up the baby, Robbie might come back to me and—and Mom wants me to give up the baby, too. She says I’m too young to be tied down like this and she wonders how it will affect my future choices about education and relationships with other men. She says that most men don’t want to be bothered with someone else’s child. She makes it all sound so complicated; that my future would be so burdensome.”

  “Oh, Tammy, I don’t know if I should be saying this to you; it’s your decision, after all. But I would keep her, don’t give her away. I’ll help you with your little girl, together we will raise her, and we’re old enough. Tammy, she belongs with you, with her mother.”

  Just then Tammy’s mother returned. “I just had to come back; I was concerned you might still be here. Please, Jennifer, Tammy needs her rest and she has a lot to think about without you adding to her troubles.”

  “Oh, Mom! Jenny’s my best friend and I value her advice so much.”

  “Jenny, would you please just go? I wish to speak to my daughter alone.”

  Jenny got up, unsure what to say. “Of course, Mrs. Anderson.” She turned to Tammy. “Should I come back tomorrow?”

  “Oh, yes, Jenny, please do.”

  Mrs. Anderson shook her head and rolled her eyes as Jenny passed by her and left the room.

  When she emerged from the hospital the sun was shining warm and bright. The walkways and streets were already drying up, except for a few puddles of rain caught in potholes and low-lying areas.

  Although Jenny’s face shone greater than the brightness of the sun, her heart was heavy. She felt so sorry for Tammy, under so much pressure to give up her baby. She knew Tammy’s life was different than hers and that Tammy had her own guardian angel, and perhaps Tammy’s little girl would be a gift of love to a couple yearning for a child of their own. She remembered thinking that about Camilla’s adoption and had been comforted by the thought.

  But, if Tammy could only understand the days, weeks and months of loss Jenny had felt anyway. If it hadn’t been for the healing power of her guardian angel, nature and the wildflowers, she didn’t know if she would ever have gotten through it.

  And then from out of nowhere, perhaps from the flowers and budding bushes that lined the sidewalk, a beautiful monarch butterfly flew her way. She followed it with forlorn eyes as it flitted merrily about as if trying to lift her spirits.

  It did distract her from her sorrow. She marvelled at its beauty, such a gorgeous orange and black butterfly. Perhaps it was as Carlos had said, a butterfly is a messenger of love from our guardian angels or a loved one, or even an angel in disguise. Could it be from Henry or Camilla? She knew monarchs travel great distances. Some go to California while others east of the Rocky Mountains migrate all the way to Mexico. They were coming back now. She wondered if one could possibly come from Regina, Saskatchewan.

  As Jenny got into her car and closed the door, she noticed the butterfly still flitting about. She prayed a message of love to Tammy that her guardian angel would guide her with her decision. Jenny looked at the monarch just outside of her car window and whispered, “Go to Tammy’s room with my love and cheer her up as you did me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  As spring settled in, Mary helped Mr. Engelmann sort through the things in his living quarters. It took a few days for him to accept that Anna’s possessions were only material memories and that someone else in need would make better use of them.

  By the end of April, all that remained was a bed, end table, and lamp, a few changes of clothes in the bedroom, the fridge, stove, a table, a single chair in the kitchen, as well as the easy chair and end table next to the south window.

  It was very busy at school, but Henry tried to help out at the store whenever he could. He noticed with each visit how much emptier the store looked. The store now lacked so many products that Mr. Engelmann felt guilty about being open and unable to supply his customers properly. Many of them had already switched to Safeway, however, some people understood and were just happy that he was still there and around to talk.

  Most of the neighbourhood also knew by now that Mr. Engelmann was going into the priesthood and were very pleased and excited for him. It made them feel that they weren’t going to lose him forever with the closing of the store, that they would be able to see him in some other capacity, perhaps in an even more intimate way.

  A number of times, people brought along a camera to take pictures of the storefront in order to preserve some memory of the store. A lot of the time, they would ask Mr. Engelmann to stand in front and took a picture of him too. If Henry was at the store, they wanted him in the picture too. Mary got caught up in all the photography as well. She took lots of pictures of Mr. Engelmann and Henry, not only in front of the store, but inside as well. Some were of Mr. Engelmann behind the counter alone and then with Henry beside him, and then in the storage room sitting on boxes and chatting during break times.

  The best photographs, though, were of the old grey crate out back which constituted Mr. Engelmann’s classroom. It was here he imparted lessons in the school of life. There was one in particular Mary took at about ten-thirty in the morning one bright, sunny day that became Henry’s favourite picture of Mr. Engelmann and himself. The shadows were strong on their faces as they sat together on the old grey
box. The photo seemed to catch the intensity of their friendship. Henry was surprised by the quality of the image; his mom knew the special relationship he and Mr. Engelmann shared and tried to capture this bond and the love Mr. Engelmann and her son had for each other. All in all, Henry just loved the pictures she’d taken and would treasure them for the rest of his life.

  Change was in the wind not only in their neighbourhood; the closing of Mr. Engelmann’s store seemed to mark a slow transition in which the small corner store where people were considered family was becoming only a memory in many parts of the country. People everywhere were adjusting to huge shopping stores and chains springing up, slowly but surely taking over an old and cherished way of life.

  At first, the bright store lights and rows of products appealed to the customers. But for those who had experienced it, what Mr. Engelmann lacked in products or flashy displays was more than made up by his personal interest and care for those he served. In the final days and weeks of the business, Henry often overheard customers say that it wasn’t the groceries they missed at the larger supermarket, it was the camaraderie—the love, the talks, the daily interaction. Sure, they had a big, fancy new store full of things, but it had no heart.

  As promised, by the first week of May, Henry had finished writing his speech and presented it to Mr. Mitchell.

  Mr. Mitchell’s eyes widened at the number of pages Henry placed on his desk.

  “This is quite a stack of papers, Henry.”

  “Yeah, I know it’s a lot, but I really didn’t know what to cut out of it. I was hoping you could help me with that. If you want, I can leave it with you and come back tomorrow or whenever you have time.”

  “No, that’s okay. I’m sure it won’t take me long to read, and I may have some questions to ask you as I go through it. Would you mind staying until I finish?”

  “Not at all, Mr. Mitchell.”

  The principal shuffled through the papers again and inwardly rolled his eyes at the number of them, then tapped the bottom of the stack on his desk to align them. He sat back in his chair, tilted it as far as he could, then rotated his shoulders. He looked as if he were preparing to read a novel.